Rancor LaLonde
by TheCrimznFuckr
Summary: Rose LaLonde and Roxy LaLonde, essentially, raise each other. However, it may take these two opposites to realize this. On their way there, the inadvertently test each others tolerance for one another. Then, its a test for true hatred.
1. Chapter 1

Rose

That blasted wizard... It glared down at me every day with its gruesome, self-righteous stare. Why I had to be subject to such an embarrassing statue, one of many strewn about the house, to the point where I grew used to it the way a parent grows used to the relentless screeches of a newborn, was a mystery. It is no mystery however, why I steer clear of it every chance I get. Not only was the thing an eyesore, but it was an all-around obstacle when it came to getting around the house. Every day I fantasize about the space we could have if it weren't for that insipid sculpture.

Despite the euphoria one-upping me might give my mother, I do believe she would have that thing taken it away by now. However, her judgment has been jaded by that poison she insists on killing herself with. Because of this, I'm sure her logic will be reduced to plaguing the house with more wizard paintings and sculptures upon impulse as she has done since my infancy.

This time, I took the tremendous risk of leaving my bedroom to use the bathroom. As much as it irritated me, that hideous stack of white carved solidified concentrated mockery had to taint my eyes once again. What was actually concerning me was the fact that I might have to confront the drunken wench on my way there, since she was once again playing house-mom and making a half-baked attempt at cleaning the house. Whenever she would put on this façade, it would seem as if she was trying to seduce somebody, what with the way she bends over and playfully drops things; although, I can't tell whether or not if that's from her inebriation or her genuinely being a whore at heart. I know she is my mother and am… pretty sure she wants the best for me, but it felt like I was just living with a disrespectful stranger. I heard the vicious moan of the vacuum cleaner from down the hall as drew closer to the door. As I made out the footsteps along with it along with her miscellaneous mumbling, I swiftly made a dash into the bathroom.

When I tried to get out of the bathroom, I made the point clear to mtself that I had to get back to my room as swiftly as I did on the way here. Only this time around, I was not going to be as lucky. As I made my turn as soon as I climbed the stairs my mom was waiting there with an oblivious look on her face.

"Oofie, Rose!" laughed my mother as she reeled back from me accidentally charging at her.

I gave her a desperate looking smile as I walked back hurriedly to my room again. When I was looking at her, I could tell that she was, once again, hammered. As I walked back to my room, I grew a bit sad for her. What could possibly drive such a woman to a state of constant inebriation? What is she trying to run from? It can't be me; All I do is linger in my room, causing no trouble at all. I don't get bad grades, nor do I show any trace of wanting to pick up her dastardly habit of drinking. I would like to have a conversation with her so I could at least try to understand why she is like this, but it won't be easy finding her sober.

I gave a moment's thought on all of this, and found myself involuntarily wrapped up messily into one of my knitted blankets. The thought of having such a horrible mother crept up over me slowly, but grew more cumbersome as the seconds ticked away. Sure, there were times where we shared laughs, but she wasn't even coherent during those times and probably couldn't recall them to save her life. And then there is her constantly up-staging me at everything, even the most minimal of things. She does it to get my goat, and oh hell does it work… She even thrusts me back into my place by up-staging my efforts in an even more sophisticated yet underhanded manner. This cat and mouse game has been going on since I was able to walk, and since then I've found her efforts to grow unnecessarily persistent.

I tossed and turned in my jumble of kitted objects as I entertained the thought that she had something against me as I restrained any and all tears that were threatening to escape my eyes. _Let's not jump into conclusions here, Rose. When is she sober?_ I thought to myself. If I could determine when she was actually not chugging her adult beverages, I can better determine what she is trying to escape from. I'm desperately hoping to find that it's not me.


	2. Chapter 2

I saw my mother eating a plate of re-heated pot-roast at the table. _Nows my chance_, I thought. I would once again engage in a cat&mouse game to see if I could kill this booze mistress with ironic kindness. I had a napkin in my pocket, and from experience, I was able to sneak up behind her 100% un-noticed. I approached her to wipe her food-stained lips. When I reached my hand around her head, I realized she was wiping her mouth before my hand could enter her line of vision. Blast it! How does that woman do it? Not one to be outdone so quickly, I lifted her glass and put the napkin under it to serve as a coaster, only there was already a coaster there! I was defeated inside- I swear to oglogoth that wasn't there when I came in. I fetched an apple from the counter and joined her, with a defeated yet coy smile. She met my smile with one that was only coy and lined with fresh horse shit residue.

"Mmm Rosey, Rosey, Rosey, R-Rose... Hehe..." Sighed my mom as she swirled about her martini glass. "I can keep this up just as long as you can."

"I guess thats true, mother." I payed her. "I just can't believe you're so spry what with all those drinks you've been having."

"Oh..." My mother let out as a hearty laugh. "I'd say mommy's a little better with a little buzz. Did you do your homework?"

"I finished it in school-"

"Good giiirrrl!" My mother laughed. At this point I couldn't take her seriously. I wondered how the hell she maintains her job. Is that it? Is she stressed out? It can't really be since she seems to keep her astronomy work with her. That and a handbag full of wizard statues.

We made idle chat for a few more minutes. I finally decided to leave this surprisingly wise drunk to finish her meal. She may mot be coherent, but shes clearly been around the block a few times.

The next day at nearly the same exact time as yesterday, I came home to see her at the table. Although, this time she seemed a lot more serious than usual. It took me a while to notice the missing booze, but when I did I instantly put two and two together. I walked silently to the table and grabbed a seat.

"Hello mother..." I said as tenderly as I could.

"Rose... Just go to your room.. Please..."

"Mother I-"

She swiftly stood up and glared down at me. "Room!" This command echoed on every surface in the house.

I stood up myself to meet my mothers stare. I could understand that she is experiencing some withdrawal symptoms, but I did not feel like tolerating this unjustified anger towards me. I walked calmly up the stairs while she remained motionless. Though I was walking away from her, I could feel her omnipresent hate radiate off of her the way the sun cloaked all exposed to its light with a tender warmth. Perhaps something at work had caused this burst of sobriety.

I made my way to my laptop and tried to do a little reading. Only I did not get too far, because my focus was ruptured by a loud and angry scream, followed by the sound of a couple of things shattering. I was not used to seeing her so scorned. This was a fine example of what anger was like. I was intrigued enough to want to examine what kind of things happen when someone is this infuriated, but if I were to go down there, may safety would be jeopardized.

Although, with this cold psychiatrist facade, I found myself snapping in sadness and concern. Who was I kidding? This was my own mother! Not only did I have to watch her dangle on a tightrope of alcoholism, watching painstakingly to see when she would plummet to her dizzy death, but now I have to decipher why she is so angry! I barely could understand the problems of my friends, who all had the stereotypical and bland adolescent angst problems that plague youth. I had no idea how to handle an adult...

I fell asleep that night to the sound of agonizing silence, which foreshadowed an unknown outburst of crying, shouting and shattering.


End file.
